


Respectability

by ambiguously



Category: Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018)
Genre: Extra Treat, F/M, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-19 18:05:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17606279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambiguously/pseuds/ambiguously
Summary: Han needs a job, and he comes to the one person he knows will have one for him.





	Respectability

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Artemis1000](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis1000/gifts).



Han never had time to read history books when he was a kid, and he lacked the patience to open one on a datapad later. His impression of the official stories about the founding of all the notable civilizations was based on impression and what he'd gleaned from casual talk. The history writers and history readers all seemed to agree that the galaxy was built on a sturdy pedestal of ever-rising solid bricks. One discovery led to another. One great feat stood as the basis for the next. One leader taught his or her successor.

He'd lived enough and seen enough to know those were lies. Civilization hadn't been constructed from durasteel truths, it was cobbled together from broken pieces. Here's a rickety old monarchy butting up against a decaying parliament. Glue in pieces of survivors from the latest genocide. Slap some paint and paper onto the garish face of a vicious criminal cartel and, blinking in the bright new dawn of this week's Republic, call it a business conglomerate instead.

Crimson Dawn had survived the war, gaining respectability and a seat at the table for selling the right weapons to the winning cause. With money, power, and a scrubbed up name, they hardly ever had anyone killed these days.

He stood in the open lobby of their premiere building on Coruscant, his eyes taking in the deep plush seats, the shimmery chandeliers hiding the holocams, and the haughty expression on the Kaminoan receptionist's face as Han approached the counter.

"May I help you?" she asked, long neck tilted away from him with the perfect angle to show her disdain without breaking necessary minimums of politeness.

"I need to speak with Qi'ra." He hadn't spoken her name in ten years. It felt good in his mouth. Han suddenly and uselessly wished he'd called her sooner and more often. He hadn't seen her in person in ten years, and it was too long.

"I'm sorry," said the receptionist, with false courtesy. "Unless you have an appointment, I'm afraid I can't help you."

"Look," he said, placing his hands on the counter, "she'll see me if you tell her I'm here. Tell her it's Han Solo. Tell her it's important."

The receptionist twisted her neck, and two guards who'd been watching from across the way starting walking towards Han. "I need to ask you to leave, sir."

He reached into his pocket. The guards pulled out their blasters. Han put his free hand into the air, and with the other, he slapped down a small token onto the counter. At first glance, it looked pure red, nothing more than a cheap poker chip from some sleazy Outer Rim gambling joint. The receptionist held up one hand, motioning to the guards. She'd obviously seen one of these before, as she stroked the edge. A small hologram appeared above the token: the image of the old Crimson Dawn symbol glowing like a brand. Their new logo had been market-tested and lawyer-approved, the same as their new corporation name. The receptionist either pre-dated the change or had been trained well enough in her job to know better.

She bowed her head, the mild distaste at Han's shabby clothes still present but overlaid with obsequiousness. "My apologies, sir. I'll let Lady Qi'ra know you're here."

As she busied herself with the comm panel, Han waved to the guards with his raised hand, and put it at his side, tapping against his leg.

"Mr. Solo," the receptionist said, "you may go up." She indicated the lift door behind her, the one not accessible to the general public. Han nodded to her pleasantly as he walked by and boarded the lift. Just before the door shut, he made an offensive gesture at her and the guards.

The lift door opened onto a spacious corridor on the top floor of the building. Another guard sat outside the door, a Gamorrean with a sharp smile and a weapon that Han knew for a fact was illegal on this planet. The door opened. The guard tilted his head at Han, not stopping him. Han let himself inside.

The ceiling stretched high above them, curious carvings decorating the climb up to a domed peak. One lush carpet graced the right side of the room, circled with deeply-upholstered chairs. Her desk sat at the other side, a view of the skyline to one side, easy to look at or ignore. Qi'ra stood behind it, not greeting him. She pressed the button on her desktop, and the door swung closed behind him. Music played, a soft melody he didn't know, until she pressed another button which silenced the sound.

"You brought my token."

Han cleared his throat. "Hi."

She held out her hand, palm facing up. Han stepped across the floor, away from the cozy sitting area towards the austerity of her workspace. He dropped the red token into her hand with barely a pause.

Qi'ra held it up to her eyes. For a moment, he saw the twinkle of a cybernetic coating on one. So it wasn't only his eyes that were having trouble seeing small items these days. Han hid his smile. He hadn't come here to call her old, and if he did, he might very well find himself taking the express route to the ground.

She lit the token, looking at the symbol. "I assumed you'd lost this years ago, or thrown it away. Crimson Dawn isn't the kind of thing a respectable man should be carrying in his pockets."

"You know I was never good at being respectable."

The hologram faded. Qi'ra stared at the red chip in her hand. She had to remember the day she'd given it to him, even three decades later. Han and Chewie had been working a job and found themselves smack in the middle of a three-way battle over some Imperial loot. Crimson Dawn had been negotiating to split with the Black Sun when Enfys and her Cloud Riders had attacked, and the cartels had turned on each other. Because of Han's ill-timed entrance providing a distraction, Enfys had made off with the whole pile. When the dust settled, half the Black Sun operatives who'd shown up were dead, and Qi'ra had pressed this into his hand.

"The Rebellion can't afford Crimson Dawn's prices," she'd said with a wicked smirk. "But if they happen to steal the Black Sun's prize, then we both win. Thank you." And she'd kissed him lightly, nothing like their past, and they'd parted for another set of years, then another, and another.

Her augmented eye turned to Han. He felt the intensity of her inspection.

"Why did you come?"

He opened his mouth, and half a dozen lies passed through his brain and exited without touching his tongue. He closed his lips, and he swallowed. "I'm back in the business."

Five words covered a lot of ground, a lot of mistakes and regrets he would never be able to fix, and what was beyond repair had to be exchanged for something useful. Han was good at this old job, better than he'd been at being a General or practicing any of his other attempted respectable occupations. Smuggling and petty theft, living on the opposite side of the law from respectable people, these were things he understood.

On the down side, he thought to himself as Qi'ra measured him with her glance, she was considered one of the respectable people now, or at least she was rich, which was considered the same thing to most would-be respectable types.

"And why did you come to me?" she asked, a layer of respectability in her voice, and under that, a layer of a sorrow so deep she'd managed to bury it to almost everyone else in the galaxy.

"I know you'll have jobs that need done. I can do them for you." It had sounded better when he'd practiced on the way here, although Chewbacca had disagreed.

She let out an amused chuckle. "Yes, I do have jobs, and I have people I pay wages to, and who pay their taxes on said wages, to perform those jobs for me. If you'd like an interview, I can arrange a meeting with my resource head. We could use another transport pilot, I'm sure." Anyone else would have said this as a dismissal. Anyone else wouldn't have used the word 'wages' as their private joke too many years ago when Lady Proxima took all their day's pickpocketing work and left them with nothing.

Han stepped closer, reaching the other side of her desk. Qi'ra didn't fall back, or flinch. "I'm willing to bet you occasionally need jobs done where the wages aren't reported. And you're thinking to yourself you've got someone or a few someones around to do them already, and what's old Han doing here asking you for work when he's got to know that already?"

"You've been spending too much time around Jedi if you think you can read my mind."

The word lanced through him. Han kept every emotion off his face. Qi'ra didn't blink, but a muscle softened in her cheek in apology.

"Hey, I was just making you the first offer for the sake of old times."

"Oh, now you're offering me the favor?"

"I'm the best," he said, with a smile full of a charm he didn't quite feel. "I can be the best for someone else." He placed his hands on her desk, pushing his luck.

"And I'm sure you will be." Her hands touched the desktop across from his. They watched one another. Then she turned away, glancing at her nice view of the cityscape. "As it happens, I do have a job that just popped up which could benefit from an unofficial wage arrangement. If I even suspect you're here because you knew that already and have come as some New Republic lackey to spy on my business, you know I'll delight in killing you personally." She looked at him again.

Han folded his arms. Once or twice in the past, he'd been made that exact offer. He had a history with Qi'ra. Crimson Dawn might be respectable but the Senate wasn't foolish enough to think that meant they weren't still engaging in illegal activities. Didn't Han think it was his civic duty to bring any illicit activities to justice?

He had not thought that.

"If I turn out to be a New Republic spy here to betray you, I'll delight in getting killed by you."

Her augmented eye glittered at him. It was better than a wink.

She touched a button on her panel. "Carmetta, I'll be away for the next week. Usual procedures."

"Yes, Lady Qi'ra."

Qi'ra opened a drawer and to Han's surprise, pulled out a warm wrap, which she placed around her shoulders before walking around the desk. She tipped her head up at him. "Ready?"

"For?"

"The job. You came here for a job. Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah, I mean." He frowned. "What is it?"

Qi'ra took his arm. "I'll tell you on the way."

"You're coming along?"

To his surprise, she kissed his cheek. "I'm coming along." She pulled him towards the door as his heart gave a thump, the old fuel blend of adventure and anticipation revving old parts of his soul he'd worried were stalled for good.

He gave the barest squeeze to the hand holding his arm, and to his surprise and pleasure, felt her squeeze back, just like the old days when everything had been simpler and the galaxy had been full of all their unrealized dreams. For a moment, he was a kid again and so was she. Decades late and a lot of heartbreak behind them, they were finally headed off together to that adventure they'd promised each other back when anything was possible.

"Let's go."


End file.
